


Ugly Christmas Sweaters

by duz (orphan_account)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/duz
Summary: What the hell do you get your crush for Christmas when you're both stuck in purgatory? Luckily inspiration struck David while running a trial, but it doesn't turn out quite like he planned. Secret Santa gift for eijunsawamuras on Tumblr
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/David King
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Ugly Christmas Sweaters

Christmas was bullshit. David had always thought so. Just another way to flaunt your wealth and pretend to care about people by throwing money at them. His parents had always done just that, stuffing stockings with shit he didn’t care about and cramming the same useless shit under the impractically large tree his mum just  _ had _ to have, so everyone in the neighborhood could know how  _ happy _ they were, he assumed. That was one thing he appreciated about this hellhole, he supposed. No reason to keep up appearances. No reason to play pretend. David appreciated the honesty of it all, the freedom. 

What he  _ didn’t _ appreciate was that without all the pretense, what the hell was he supposed to do about Christmas? Sure, it would be fine if he didn’t get anyone shit. And he sure the fuck didn’t plan to, for most of ‘em. There was one other person, however, just one, that David actually  _ wanted _ to do something nice for. He’d been thinking about it since the winds started to blow a little colder, the sky a little darker. The snow had been falling for a little over a week now, and that was as close to a warning as they were gonna get. Soon lights would start popping up from god knew where, and bam, another year in hell gone by. 

How did you make something special when all you had was nothing? Nothing to offer, besides what he already willingly gave. Protection to the others in the death games. That wasn’t really a Christmas present, though, was it? Not something you could wrap up in a bow and stick under a tree. Tying a bow in some bloody gauze under a meathook swingin’ with his mates guts seemed more likely. Not exactly a happy Christmas. So, what was he supposed to do?

The idea had actually come to him during one of the Entity’s trials. Not exactly a vision of sugarplums, but as David had run through one of the dilapidated houses in the fake neighborhood, something had caught his eye.  _ Huh _ , he’d thought to himself.  _ There’s an idea.  _ Then he’d taken a blade to the back of the head and gone down like a sack of rocks. When he’d opened his eyes again, the campfire blazing blearily before him, the thought had come back. Nagged at his brain like a parasite, crawling around between his ears until he’d shoved himself up from the ground. 

Traveling the realm wasn’t something David did much of. Some of the others did. Hell, Quentin was gone so often that David usually forgot the kid even _ existed _ until the sleepy-eyed teen stumbled in from the woods. But if a kid like him could come and go, then surely David would be fine.

“Where are you going?” 

At the edge of the woods, David paused. Turned to look over his shoulder at Dwight, their so-called leader. David didn’t think they  _ had  _ a leader, because they weren’t a team. Some of them cared. Some didn’t. Some of them would throw themselves at death’s door to save you while others wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. No team, so no leader. But David liked Dwight anyway, liked the  _ idea _ of a team to lead. Liked that he gave enough of a shit to notice David leaving and to ask about it. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured, grinning back at the nervous man. “Just goin’ out for pizza.”

“Pepperoni,” Meg said, her tone dry. She didn’t look up from the fire, not until Kate spoke. 

“Yeah, and mushrooms,” Kate added, exchanging a nod with the red-head, her blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders. 

“But no pineapple,” Meg continued, pulling a face, sticking her tongue out just a little bit to make Kate chuckle. 

“Yeah,” Feng added in, not looking up from the little game she played with herself in the dirt. “You get pineapples, you don’t come back.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” David grumbled, trying to force a scowl on his face, his only defense against the women’s teasing. They laughed softly at their stupid, nonsensical joke and even a few others smiled, a sign of truly desperate they were for light-hearted entertainment. Only Dwight’s face remained serious. He ignored the banter, instead watching David with drawn brows and downturned lips. 

“Be careful,” he said, his quiet voice steady and somber, his eyes unwavering as he gazed at David at the precarious edge of the woods, about to willingly leave the safety it gave. David’s chest tightened a bit, warm and cold at the same time, anxiety and anticipation swirling inside his ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he promised. “Always am. Don’t worry so much.” 

He knew telling Dwight not to worry was like telling himself not to fight, but he said it anyway. Hoped that it would do the man some good as David tramped away through the sparse underbrush. The campfire’s glow disappeared faster than he expected, leaving only wan beams of silvery light shifting through the gnarled canopy. 

How did he get back to that neighborhood? David had no clue. There weren’t exactly markers, at least not any that he saw, and the Entity wasn’t helping him out. It took only a turn or two before he felt lost, unsure of which way would bring him back to the others, but he didn’t really care. What was the worst that could happen if he got lost? He’d die? Been there, done that, got the tee shirt, not impressed. So David kept pressing on, twisting through the trees when the worn paths disappeared, just hoping he’d eventually end up  _ somewhere _ if he just kept moving. 

Eventually, the trees became thinner. David chased them, just one or two dotting his path, until blacktop came into view. At the edge of the street, David wondered if this was the right place. There were a couple places like this, little slices of suburban life with roads that doubled back on themselves when you got to the end. Never-ending loops of hell, but for now it was quiet. Dormant. As far as David could tell, he was alone. He’d never met up with one of the monsters who hunted them outside of a death game. Would it be different? Would his muscles and grit mean anything? Would he stand a chance? Guess he’d find out if any of those bastards showed themselves. But, for once, David wasn’t itching for a fight. He’d come here for a reason. He had shit to do and a monster fight would only get in the way. 

There were a lot of skills David had picked up over the years. He could pack an empty socket and stitch himself up with dental floss. (Preferably unflavored--the mint stung like a bitch.) Backroom first-aid made sense; he’d done a lot of it after his parents had cut him off, when his drinking had been at an all-time high, when he didn’t have the sense of mind to drag his sorry ass to a hospital. David could patch up anyone with anything, and those skills came in handy now. 

But the skill that had brought him to this place was not something he’d ever expected to use again. Probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been running through the house with the fireplace, some big blue monster snarling at his heels, and caught sight of it. Near the worn couch sat a faded basket, stuffed to bursting with yarn. He’d thought how strange it was, how normal it seemed. He could imagine some old broad curled up in front of the couch, knitting socks for her grandbabies. His hesitation cost him--he didn’t make it out of that game--but the basket of yarn stayed lodged in his brain. 

The house was easy enough to find by the crackle of fire that gave off no warmth. Not that it mattered. It didn’t get cold much in this place, except at the snow resort where the teenage rejects hung out. Tiny fluctuations were present across the different realms but, mostly, it just felt like nothing. The door hung crooked in the frame and David had to ram it open with his shoulder. Everything looked just the same as the last time he’d been here. A little calmer, maybe. The fire blazing merrily away, reflecting off the dirty panes of cracked glass. And next to the couch, the basket. 

Snatching up the basket, David sat on the dusty couch, plopped it between his knees, and began to dig through. There was more yarn than he’d hoped for, and softer too. Even a pair of needles was stuffed through the old skeins and David couldn’t quite believe his luck. Maybe this was some kind of fucked up trap, some way to lure him away from the campfire so the Entity could do… he didn’t know what, but he was sure it wasn’t good. But, honestly, he didn’t give a shit. Really, he could not have cared less about what that  _ thing _ might try to do to him. Now that it had given him this, it wasn’t going to take it away. 

Pulling out the yarn and the pair of needles--bigger than he would have liked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers--David began to knit. It would take days to finish his project, but what the hell else did he have to do with his time? No need to eat or drink, no need to piss or shit, nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and run the mindless oafs in circles. So long as he didn’t get ripped out of this place and pushed into a trial there was nothing to prevent him from working. Could the monster even take him from here? He didn’t know, but David wasn’t too concerned about it. If it did, he’d just come back and finish after. It wasn’t like they had a calendar. Christmas was only a guess, so he’d finish when he finished and it would be fine.

More than fine. It would be good. As the needles quietly clicked against one another, David imagined Dwight’s face as he was presented with David’s gift. First his eyebrows would go up on his face, like he was surprised someone had remembered that Christmas was a thing. Then his little mouth would fall open, his eyes would widen behind his glasses before he fixed his face, hiding his shock. But he wouldn’t be able to hide the red on his cheeks, the tip of his nose. Then his brows would go down, his eyes soft and shining as he took David’s gift. Gently caressed David’s painstaking work with trembling fingers and a quiet “Thank you…” 

Excitement flipped David’s stomach as he knitted, replaying Dwight’s reaction on a loop. Sometimes Dwight turned away, embarrassed by the present. Sometimes he leaned forward, hoping for a kiss that David was all too ready to give. Why hadn’t he before? Maybe he was more chickenshit than he thought. He didn’t want to ruin this. Was Dwight gay? He didn’t know. Did he care about him any more than the others? He didn’t know. But damn if he wasn’t going to give him the best present in this fucking hellhole anyway. 

The hours passed slowly. Solitude had never been a friend of David’s. Noise and activity kept his mind from wandering to places he’d rather it didn’t go. His parents. His so-called “friends'' back in Manchester. That fucking referee and his bullshit call that had ruined David’s career. He’d often wondered if he’d been paid, somehow manipulated into making a bad call that he  _ knew  _ would piss David off. All the little things conspiring to fuck things up for him. Of course he’d started drinking more--what the fuck else was he supposed to do? And how else was he supposed to make money? Keep Donnie’s knees unbroken? Anyone who blamed him for any of it didn’t get it.    
  
David ground his teeth as he worked, letting the bitter memories consume his mind for a while. No one here knew any of that. Well, bits and pieces. They knew he’d played rugby. Jake had guessed he came from money, an unspoken understanding shared between them about that type of life, those types of expectations. Other than that, David kept his mouth shut. Didn’t really want to share the details of his sordid past and, really, it didn’t matter one damn bit who had been before he got dragged here. He had a chance to be someone different here--though he wouldn’t have minded being someone different with a couple of beers in his belly. 

Holding up his creation, David judged his progress. So far so good. If nothing interrupted him, he’d be done before he knew it. As soon as the thought entered his mind, David knew he shouldn’t have thought it. Was asking for trouble. Inviting it. Usually that would be no problem--the opposite of a problem. Excitement broke up the monotony of this purgatory. Usually, but not now. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up and David grit his teeth. Not now. Not when he actually had something to  _ do. _

The man cast a glance over his shoulder, but there was no one there. No one he could see. Was the white masked freak outside the window, watching him from somewhere? Across the stress? On one of the rooftops? Or was he up the stairs, peering through a crack in the floor? Just around the kitchen door jam, breathing heavy onto the pale yellow wallpaper and cracked, broken appliances? 

Cursing under his breath, David threw down his knitting and got to his feet. The first rule of a horror movie… well, that was don’t be a virgin, wasn’t it? David had that box checked, but he decided fuck it to the other rules and went to investigate. Show no fear. What reason did he have to be afraid of these monsters anyway? Stalking through the house, he threw open every door, stuck his head into every closet, even pulled back the musty shower curtain until he was satisfied that he  _ really _ was alone in the dilapidated street house. Only then did he return to his project.

Mood a little soured, David clicked the needles together. Didn’t mean no one was out there. Could be outside the house. But he couldn’t check the whole damn neighborhood. Even with nothing BUT time, he had to finish his gift. The others were probably starting to wonder where he was. Dwight, at least, was sitting at the edge of the fire, glancing over his shoulder between nervous bites of his nails, already worn down to the quicks. Sometimes they’d start to bleed when he worked on generators, the turning metal gears rough on his fingertips. He’d wince, set his jaw tight, but keep working, making sure to pull his weight, making sure he did everything he could to assure that  _ all  _ of them escaped the clutching claws of the Entity’s prowling beasts. 

Prowling beasts...

A sharp wind blew across the street, clattering the shutters against the house. Was it just the wind, or did David hear heavy footsteps creaking the wooden floor upstairs? He hadn’t seen anything when he looked before, but that didn’t mean nothing was there. Didn’t mean nothing had showed up. How did the monsters travel? Did they walk, like he did? Teleport? Phase through nothing like the weird naked girl? 

“Fuck,” David swore as he dropped a stitch, brow furrowing at the yarn. The floor creaked again and David lifted his eyes. Shit… something  _ was _ there, wasn’t it? Looking down at his knitting, David scowled. He wasn’t halfway through! What was he supposed to do? Stay? Risk fighting whoever the hell was creeping through the house? Did he stand a chance outside of a death game? Or would he get ripped into a thousand pieces, all his hard work left behind in a pool of cooling blood and guts? 

The stairs creaked as heavy boots descended the rickety staircase. David didn’t know if it was the masked mechanic, the tall silent one who always seemed to have an eye on the spunky blonde, or someone else. Could be anyone else--if David could get here than there was no reason any of the monsters couldn’t get here too. Anyone… anyone ready to rip him limb from limb, tear out his throat, rip the tongue from his head, bury a hatchet deep into his spinal column... Looking down at the knitting in his lap, David ground his teeth together and made a decision. 

He was leaving. Pulling the knitting needles out of the yarn, he left them on the couch and quickly, quietly, ducked out of the busted out window at the end of the room. Walked fast towards the end of the street, into the woods, putting the shitty neighborhood and whatever stalked it behind him. 

It was a lot easier to find his way back to the campfire than it had been to get away from it. Maybe it was the Entity’s influence--this was where it wanted him. David followed the paths back to the flickering firelight, back to…

Dwight sat at the edge of the campfire, knees turned towards the woods, fingertips shoved against his lips. Brows furrowed, the glow of the fire bounced off the planes of his face, casting dark shadows into the hollows of his cheeks, under his eyes, making him look tired and worried. David looked at his hands. Between his bruised and bloody fingers was a sweater. Or what would have been a sweater, if he hadn’t been too chickenshit to finish it. The thing he held could barely be recognized as a sweater, at least not one for a human. Too short, only one sleeve, the ends unfinished and messy. He’d stayed away so long, made Dwight bite his fingers bloody, and for what? For this piece of shit? It wasn’t fit for a dog, much less a person. Much less Dwight. David threw it down in disgust.

“David.” 

David jumped back as Dwight took a step closer, away from the safety of the campfire and into the edge of the woods. His mouth hung open just a bit, soft eyes looking from David to the crumpled sweater snagged in the underbrush. 

“What is this?” 

Blood filled David’s face, painting it red under Dwight’s confused gaze. “It’s… uh… it’s…” 

Leaning down, Dwight gingerly unsnagged the sweater from the dry twigs and roots, picking brambles from it before holding it out in front of him. He looked around it curiously, not a single inkling of understanding on his face. “What is this?” 

David blushed harder, awkwardly looking away from Dwight. He didn’t know… he didn’t understand what it was. Probably didn’t occur to him that someone would be so stupid to try to pass off something so horrible as a gift. A Christmas gift, no less. Heat flushed down his neck, down the back of his shirt. David didn’t know if he had ever been so embarrassed in his life.

“Aw hell” he grumbled, refusing to meet the bespectacled man’s eyes. “It’s a… it was  _ supposed  _ to be a sweater.” 

“Where did it come from?”

“I made it,” David admitted with shame. “It was supposed to be a present, but, uh… I didn’t get to finish it.” 

“A present?” 

“For you.”

“For me?”

Taking a step forward, brow drawn with both embarrassment and flaring annoyance, he snatched at the sweater. “There an echo out here?”

But Dwight stepped away, drawing the sweater to his chest. His lips turned down and he kept moving, away from the gnarled dark trees and into the light of the camp. David followed him, scowling harder, reaching again for the garment. But Dwight kept moving, turning his torso this way and that, dancing away from David’s grasping hands. 

“What are ya doin!?” David finally growled, stomping forward, throwing an arm around Dwight’s middle and dragging him close. His hip hit David’s stomach, his shoulder going into David’s chest. But still Dwight clutched the sweater close, refusing to give it up!

“It’s  _ mine,”  _ Dwight said, bringing his chin to his chest, curling protectively around it. “You said you made it for me!” 

“I  _ did  _ but,”

“Then stop trying to take it away!” 

“Aw, c’mon, you don’t want this piece of shit!” 

“Yes, I do!” 

David stopped, staring down at Dwight squirming in his arms. “Hold on… you do?” 

The smaller man stopped trying to pull away at David’s words, when he stopped trying to take away the present that he’d only just given to him. He could feel David’s eyes on him, as uncomprehending as Dwight had been when David first presented the sweater. It was just…

“No one has even made me anything before,” Dwight admitted, staring at the ground with red cheeks. He’d rarely gotten any present  _ at all _ , much less something handmade. Where had David gotten the yarn? How long had he spent working on it? And what had happened to keep him from finishing it? Trouble? Danger? It made it all the more special, what he’d risked, and Dwight appreciated it more than David knew. 

“But… I didn’t finish it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dwight countered, running his fingers over the soft yarn, the perfectly rounded collar, even the empty arm hole where the second sleeve should have been. “I still want it.” 

“You do?”

Dwight smirked. “There an echo in here?” 

Laughing softly, David loosened his arms a bit, though he did not entirely let go of the smaller man. He couldn't believe his luck that Dwight wasn't insulted by the gift, but even seemed to like it. No one had ever made him anything before... well, David was glad to be the one to change that, and even happier to have Dwight in his arms. Ducking his head, he pressed a quick kiss to Dwight's temple. He stiffened in David's arms, but he didn't pull away. Relaxed into his chest, soft smile spreading under his rosy cheeks. 

"Thank you, David," Dwight murmured, voice quiet and bright. "I love it." 

"Yeah," the Brit replied, pushing his luck for another kiss to Dwight's warm face. To have the anxious, nervous man in his arms, smiling, laughing, _happy_ , was more than he could have hoped for. A Christmas miracle. "Welcome. Happy Christmas, Dwight." 

  
  



End file.
